Put on a happy face…

•December 4, 2011 • Leave a Comment

I am known for my smile.

What people don’t know is that 75% of the time, that smile is a put on.

Fake.

Phony.

Growing up, my mother ingrained one thing in me, “People won’t like you if you are sad all the time.”

She’s right.

I’m around 99% positive that around 75% of my 700 some friends on facebook have blocked my posts. A few of them have deleted me.

That number is probably higher than I realize.

It devastates me.

But, I don’t feel bad for feeling the way I do… for voicing my pain. If anything, I am honest to a fault. I wish more people chose to live their lives that way. I think there would be less depression if everyone were more honest.

People only choose to show the greener side of their fence. It takes courage to show the weeds. (Jenism)

Most people don’t understand the WHY of things. I’m fairly sure I’m looked upon as an overdramatic drama queen when in reality, I’ve suffered 3 events that would rightfully cause anyone to at least contemplate suicide. I’ve got a killer case of PTSD. I often feel ashamed, as it’s not like I’ve been fighting a war, but I have been fighting for my own survival in many ways for far too long.

I often wonder why I’m still here. I’ve asked God to take me… many times. I hate when people say that they will pray for me. I feel like God disowned me a long time ago. Walking this earth is a punishment I have less and less strength for. The light at the end of the tunnel gets further and further away as the years pass. The only thing that keeps me going is Alexa and the guilt I feel I would saddle her with when I think about giving up.

But, of course, loving her has always been a bittersweet, double edged sword.

I have been through therapy. Multiple times. I live with depression because I was born wired for it. It’s more than sadness. It’s more than being tired or lazy. It’s a weariness that cannot be explained.

Yes, I live in a constant state of chaos. My living space is always littered with clothes, craft supplies, random school papers… stuff. I am a borderline hoarder. I just wish that others would understand that I’m not just a messy person. I’m not trying to be sloppy. I can’t just “clean it up.”

Hell, half the time, I can’t get out of bed.

I’m not lazy, I’m sick.

One thing that continues to be difficult is seeing others, particularly ones that have hurt me terribly, getting further and further ahead in the game of life. That gets compounded when I find out that friends of mine, who know of the hurt, the pain, the anguish and devastation that those people have caused, choose to continue to associate with them. I feel like my pain means nothing. Everything that was taken from me, everything that I endured at their hands, means nothing. It gets ignored and dismissed. If my friends were really my friends, wouldn’t all of that matter? I wish it were something stupid, like stealing a job or money issues, but it’s nowhere near trivial. It’s something I did try killing myself over (in the disguised form of anorexia)… something that SHOULD matter.

The more time that goes by, the more I am convinced that karma doesn’t exist.

Despite everything, I AM proud of myself. It’s the only other thing that keeps me going. Despite the fact that I would rather stay in bed than face the world, I get up, I go to work, I write papers, I take care of Alexa…

I try.

God knows that I try.

I just wish that trying would finally count for something.

For now, it’s just one more day…

You Were The Only Exception.

•August 8, 2011 • Leave a Comment

I honestly don’t know if I can ever, in good conscious, allow myself to feel this way again.

Crushes honestly do live up to their name.

Why do I ever think it will change for me?

That something will magically work out?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The biggest, strongest wall was built.

How did anyone manage to squeeze in the cracks?

Ultimately breaking me again.

My life is an unfortunate study in “only exceptions”…

Altitude Sickness – Teetering on the Edge of the Plastic Surgery High Dive

•August 7, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Let me start off by saying that I probably know what your initial response to this post will be.

It is my own initial response to “perfection procedures.”

However…

How can someone get to know and love the real you when you can’t seem to get the time of day?

I’ve always been small. I don’t think I need to spell it out for you intelligent readers. Betrayed by genetics, a childhood of gymnastics and being bound in a unbreatheably tight, ultimate corset-like backbrace during my formative years killed any chance I ever may have had at being a… how can I put it nicely… Victoria’s Secret model. (Although their garments do work wonders…)

Yes, I understand that most models are flatchested.

They’re also 6 feet tall.

I’m also super height/weight conscious. While I can’t do anything about the former, the latter I can control. Usually in a not-so-good way. Sometimes it is the ONLY thing I can control. Enter my emo, non-eater personality. Being a gymnast, it was always formidable to be super small. When I got to high school, I had it in my head that being the skinny girl was my only visible identity.

I still couldn’t get a date, but at least I looked good.

While I never identified with anorexics, I can see shades of it when I look to the past. I wasn’t a crazy dieter and didn’t exercise a million hours a day. Quite frankly, I ate a lot of junk and only danced when I was performing.

PS – I’m still a candy fiend.

I always had stomach issues though. The quest for perfection, whether it be with grades, friends, looks, you name it, stressed me to the point of not being able to eat. I was always worried. ALWAYS. I still am to a large extent.

I also still have eating issues to this day. I have a magic (weight) number that I’m not allowed to go beyond. I flip if I go up a pants size. If there’s even an inkling of heartbreak on the horizon, I go without. I get so worried about time passing and leaving me behind that I can’t bring myself to eat in hopes that staying skinny will magically produce someone of interest.

The thing is, no one really cares. Well, except my ex, but that was honestly ridiculous. Funny how it still can stick with you though.

I see people of all shapes and sizes in successful relationships. How “looksist” am I to judge?

I guess I just don’t understand it all in the grand scheme of things.

I’m funny. I have a ridiculously cool job. I don’t have kids. (Not that that should matter at all, but in this crazy, often stupid, world, it somehow does.) I have a car. I pay my bills. I even have stellar credit in this tanked out economy.

BUT

How can anyone get to know the fabulous Jen Schubert without being willing to approach her?

AND

MORE IMPORTANTLY

Why is she completely invisible?

My friends call me “cute.” I hear that I have a great smile. I don’t scowl or act unattractive in public.

What gives?!

Now I know that this is not the ancient times; I am perfectly able to approach others myself. However, there is just an overwhelming feeling of pride, satisfaction and worthiness associated with being wanted.

It is really hard to go out with my girl friends and see them being approached, talked to, bought drinks, etc.

Just what is it about me that warrants a cellophane existance?

It’s been this way most of my life. What concerns me now is the fact that, like it or not, I am getting older. The bigger chesticle debate is now giving way to pricing of Botox and Restylane. I can’t help but wonder if I can lipo my double chin.

It all boils down to this: If I couldn’t get acknowledged in my 20s, how in the hell am I going to keep up now?

I know full well that in the grand scheme of things “It’s what is inside that counts!” and that only those who love you for who you truly are, warts and all, are worth it.

BUT

When you reach a certain age, are still alone and cannot seem to meet anyone who will give you the time of day, much less take the time to know you,  it does make your mind start wandering…

I’m a rad chick.

I just need a little help here and there.

Happy List! – August 5, 2011

•August 5, 2011 • 1 Comment

Sometimes when mired in the bad, it is hard to remember the good…

But when there is so much good, it is hard not to hold on tight, cherish and celebrate it!

You Gotta Have Friends…

Sometimes you never know how many friends you actually have until you hit a rough patch. It really does amaze me when someone is willing to take a minute or so and write me when I seem out of sorts. The good ones come out of the woodwork and rally, and I can’t begin to express how much I love you for it.

Making New Memories

Sometimes a crazy messy roadblock gets unexpectedly plopped right onto your carefully planned path. If you stay flexible and allow for a detour, you might be surprised at the results of traveling off the highlighted route.

POTTERMORE!!!

Because Alexa and I are magical.

Get lost in a good book, and keep thinking of the things that make YOU happy! 🙂

~Jen

 

 

 

Clunking Along… Toddler Musings in a Grown Up World

•August 5, 2011 • Leave a Comment

But why?

Like a toddler, I often let this question burn a hole through my brain. It plays on repeat at a painfully high volume until I force myself to tune it out. Sometimes it takes a couple of days; in severe cases, years. Chalk it up to a childhood of overachievement… Little Miss Smarty Pants always had to know the answer to everything.

BUT

If there is a reason for everything, what exactly is the reasoning behind the inexplicable behavior of others?

Perusing the dreaded book of face tonight, I ran into a recent picture that got me thinking. It was a photo of someone I was quite smitten with last year. I would have done anything for this person. Point of fact, I did do quite a lot. Oddly enough, I was pushed to the wayside in favor of an abusive ex. I would have loved to have given this person the world, and tried, but ultimately lost out to someone who had gone to jail over their former disputes.

Insanity.

Of course, since I couldn’t explain this behavior, I blamed myself. How in the world could I NOT trump someone who physically laid hands on someone else? I could be completely superficial and go into a rant on physicality, but I am a firm believer of beauty lying in the eyes of the beholder, so this is never a valid argument in my eyes anyway. Simply everything from personality to anger issues… the sheer volume of negatives associated with this other person pushed me over the edge.

The photo?

They were in a picture together.

Surprised? Not a bit. Disappointed? Of course.

I won’t lie. It still stings a bit.

Believe me, I heard it all. “You’re too good for that.” “How could you ever go for X anyway?!” “Not your loss!” I do recognize the toxicity that could have been. At least I was aware of the possibilities.

We won’t go into my rescuing/mothering issues… (Hello codependence!)

Instead we come back to today. Still hurting a bit from another, more recent, failed attempt.

When the heart has been closed off in defense and walled up for protection but someone somehow manages to break through the cracks, it is both terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. There are moments of frozen panic, wondering what to do and where to go next… pushing yourself in the direction of taking a chance, all the while talking yourself out of it, trying to sneak back behind that wall.

It is a tough pill to swallow when you have allowed yourself to get really excited, and carried away, about such great possibilities, only to find out that they really only ever existed in your head and had no chance of coming true.

Stir in the fatalistic embarrassment factor if you so chose to share that excitement with others.

I try to be all Stewart Smalley about it: “I’m good enough. I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!”

BUT

When the unfortunate, but consistent, result of putting myself out there ultimately ends in rejection, or worse, complete unacknowledgement, it is hard to constantly keep going.

I can only do my best.

But I’ll never stop wondering why…

Flat. Traveling for thousands of miles only to arrive at the beginning.

•August 1, 2011 • 1 Comment

Why?

One day, when the universe decides to finally reveal its truths, I hope to discover why I was created to fall so easily, trust so readily and love so deeply if I was never meant to be loved in return.

It takes all of the courage I can muster to give someone an inkling that I care for them, much less tell them. I often get creative in an effort to make it fun and less nervewracking for myself. Often, these attempts are rejected, or worse, not even recognized at all. So much of my heart goes into planning and executing things to make people happy that if they are never acknowledged, I feel as if my heart is worth nothing.

That I am worth nothing.

I’ve given so much of my heart away that I feel as if there is barely anything left. I have tried to not waste this precious gift, searching out those who I have thought would never take it for granted, but have unfailingly been proven wrong. I am foolish and must suffer the consequences of being so.

But who?

I’m not the girl who is ever approached or asked out. Though it would be lovely, and an absolute dream, I can’t ever imagine ever being courted. If I can’t even get noticed, why should I think that anyone would put forth the time and effort to try and “woo” me?

I have settled for being the person who makes the surprises and tries to make others feel special. Unfortunately, that has never worked either.

By now, you must know that I am a dreamer. I live in a life of my own imagining. It has always been wildly fanciful… so much so, that real life could never compare. Yet, I feel as if some of my wild imaginings are often very real, very tangible, very POSSIBLE events that almost everyone seems to have had in their lives but me.

I pray for a hand to hold, not a Tiffany ring.

I wish for a funny, steadfast confidant, not a supermodel.

I plead for someone to wait outside security at the airport, JUST ONCE, not a limousine pickup.

I have played “choose you own adventure” with my life, in a fairly successful way. I have met people that have previously only been seen in picture frames on the walls of my childhood bedroom. I have traveled, experienced new cultures, held an inordinate amount of fun, serious and interesting jobs… but I still feel empty.

People say that you must focus on yourself… that only YOU can make YOU happy. I understand this, but I also have to disagree in some respect. When you are built to love, you must have someone besides yourself to love.

I will not say that I’m not totally unselfish. I do want love in return.

I ache for it everyday of my life.

Sure, I love my friends, and I truly believe that they love me in return. I just want a more livable type of love. Day to day. *Not every second, however. That would drive me insane. I, most definitely, am my own person and need my own space. Catch 22 with the whole children thing…

I try so very hard to do everything I can possibly think of to fix myself… to make myself into someone lovable. I plan heartfelt things to make others smile and be happy. I lose weight. I try to look my best at all times. I hug, smile and listen.

I try my best to book a show or a modeling gig in a fruitless attempt to validate myself.

Look! I really am pretty! This photographer/company thought so.

Listen to the applause! They like me. They really, really like me!

But nothing really comes of that either. Hollow applause from nameless faces. Compliments from anonymous “yes” men.

I’m still invisible. I’m not worth getting to know. I can’t win anyone over with my talent or my overly made up face.

I just don’t know what else there is. I don’t know what to do anymore.

I am stuck.

I am numb.

Forever alone on this road to nowhere.

The Triumphant Return of… THE HAPPY LIST!!!

•July 23, 2011 • 2 Comments

Wow.

I’m a slacker.

I could throw out a hundred excuses as to why I’ve abandoned Road to Happy, but that’s exactly what they would be… excuses. So, instead of explaining or trying to rationalize, I’ll just bring on the happy. 🙂

Inspiration in the strangest of places…

I decided that I wanted to create a new bracelet to match the dress I’ll be wearing to next Saturday’s epic X-Files reunion event. (Watch out for more on this later!) I naturally jumped in the car and drove to my friendly neighborhood craft store… name withheld for embarrassing selection of chain fail. Awful! Then, inspiration struck in the form of hardware. What?! Yes, Lowe’s. Now, I’ve made some pretty awesome necklaces out of satin and copper pipe fittings. Yes, copper pipe… the stuff that hold your toilet lines together. Today I opted for the industrial chain section and found some gorgeous cathedral chain in both white (!) and gold. I am having a little trouble weaving satin ribbon through this interesting linkage but am quite enjoying the challenge.

Unexpected deals… and a new, RAD bag 🙂

Borders is closing. No, that does NOT make the happy list. (Though I knew they were in bigger trouble than first thought when my brother’s paychecks started bouncing…) However, with closings come sales. Now, there has been a really rad magazine bag which folds into a purse (!) that I’ve been eyeing in the Paperchase section of the store for a couple of months now. I just couldn’t bring myself to spend the money on it. At this point, knowing that pretty soon it would be gone forever, I resigned myself to the fact that I would purchase it for 10% off. After picking it up and putting it back twice due to RIDICULOUSLY INSANE lines (10% off people…), I finally navigated a fairly short (10 people deep) line with the bag in question and a few magazines. (Hey, those were 40% off and I’ll need airplane reading material!) The unexpectedly cheerful cashier rung it up, and to my very pleasant surprise it was 50% off! Score! So now, not only do I have a new bag… ALWAYS a happy thing… but new design inspiration as well.

Be inspired, and keep thinking of the things that make YOU happy! 🙂

~Jen